Agent Down!
by stealthy290
Summary: A routine interview goes bad before it even begins, leaving Colby fighting for his life. David and Colbycentric. NOT slash. Warning: Spoilers from The Mole, Two Daughters
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is going to be a short multi-chapter, mainly centered on David and Colby (NOT slash).**

**Standard disclaimer applies: Sadly, Numb3rs doesn't belong to me, and probably never will. I'm not making profit off this story. Don't bother suing, it won't be worth the attorney bills, since all I really own is a lot of Kroger-brand pasta and some used engineering textbooks. **

* * *

Colby stepped out of David's black sedan, simultaneously adjusting his suit jacket and tie. David removed his keys from the ignition and then slid out. As David was shutting his door and locking the car, Colby consulted his notebook. "Keith Emmett," he said aloud when David had walked around the car to join him. "Friend of the victim's wife." David nodded his thanks for the reminder on the name. He and Colby made a great team on the job.

The pair of agents made their way up the sidewalk toward the front door. The neighborhood was obviously middle class, quiet, probably friendly. Mr. Emmett's house looked just like six other houses on the street, just different colored siding and shutters. Normal. Normal neighborhood, normal house, from what they could tell, all around average guy.

When David and Colby were about ten feet from the porch, the front door flew open, and a man stepped out. He was gaunt-looking, almost unrecognizable from his driver's license picture. But David and Colby didn't take in his haggard appearance; their attention was focused on the shotgun he was brandishing.

Colby drew his handgun smoothly, trying not to attract Keith's attention while David talked. The man held his shotgun in one hand, barrel haphazardly aimed at the ground. "Mr. Emmett, we're FBI," David announced calmly, soothingly. "We just want to talk to you."

Emmett raised, aimed and fired the shotgun before either agent had time to react. Colby immediately went down, but managed to fire off three rounds before the pain registered. By then, David had also drawn his sidearm, and with one shot disabled the shooter.

In seconds, David had disarmed and handcuffed Emmett, who was groaning from the bullet wound to his thigh. "Shut up, you'll be fine," David muttered in the guy's ear. Only then did he realize that Colby was down.

David made sure that Emmett was restrained before rushing to his partner's side. Colby was curled up, hands clasping his side. David immediately flipped open his cell and dialed 911. "This is Agent David Sinclair, FBI, I've got an agent down. I need a bus, address 134 Palmetto Drive. I repeat, Federal agent down." The dispatcher assured him that help was on the way, but David wasn't listening anymore. He'd made the call, now he needed to make sure his partner was going to survive until the ambulance got there.

"Colby, move your hands," David ordered. Colby either didn't hear or was choosing not to comply. David rolled the younger agent so he was lying on his back, then forced Colby's hands away from the wound. Blood was pouring out of the left side of Colby's abdomen, so David quickly applied pressure. There was no way he could stop the bleeding before the EMTs arrived, but he could at least slow it down. Colby groaned again, trying to curl his legs back up and roll onto his side again.

David kept Colby stationary to the best of his ability, but it was tough trying to pin the other man while applying pressure to the gunshot wound. "Colby, can you hear me?" David yelled, getting nervous that Colby hadn't acknowledged him yet.

When Colby didn't respond, David pulled one bloody hand away from his partner's gut to search for a pulse. It took him several seconds to find one. When he did, it was weak and thready, but fast. David put his hand back with the other to keep applying pressure. His own heartbeat was pounding in his ears as adrenaline continued to course through his system, but he could hear that Colby's breathing was getting faster. The former soldier's skin was pale, almost beginning to carry a blue-ish tint. Colby was in shock, his partner quickly determined. David's mind raced as he thought back through all of his first aid training. To treat shock, he was supposed to keep the patient lying on the ground, feet elevated. There was no way he could let go of Colby's abdomen to try to elevate his legs. David shifted from where he was kneeling, still applying pressure, but managed to scoot Colby's heels closer to his butt, so his knees were raised a bit. That would have to do for now. As Colby started to violently shiver, David remembered that he was also supposed to keep a shock patient warm.

David glanced around wildly. Where the hell were the paramedics? Shouldn't they be here by now? Why hadn't anyone else in this quiet neighborhood heard the gunshots and come outside to investigate? He needed some help right now, anyone would do. But no-one was available. Again, David lifted one hand from his friend's side and ripped off his suit jacket. He switched hands and pulled the coat off the rest of the way, shaking it off when it got stuck on his watch. Before returning both hands to the wound, he laid the coat on top of his partner, hoping it would help keep him warm.

Colby mumbled something, but David couldn't make it out. "What was that?" he asked softly.

"Dwayne," the injured man groaned. David was confused. "Taliban… convoy… RPG," Colby continued. David finally knew what Colby was talking about, although he had no idea why. Dwayne was Colby's Army buddy that pulled him out of a humvee after it had been hit by an enemy RPG. "Dwayne," Colby called out again, ending with another groan of pain.

David pressed a little harder, alarmed at how much blood Colby had lost. "I've got you," he soothed the younger agent. "Just hang in there, Granger. Just a little longer." David could finally hear ambulance sirens, although they were still distant.

Suddenly, Colby's body jerked, and he vomited blood. David pulled one hand free and scrambled up closer to Colby's head. With his one free hand, he turned his partner's head so he wouldn't choke on his own blood. Colby abruptly spat out another mouthful of blood, hitting David's sleeve.

David returned to Colby's side, desperate for the ambulance to arrive faster. "Hang in there, Colby. Hang on." Colby lost consciousness.

After what seemed like an eternity, two ambulances screeched to a halt in the middle of the road. EMTs jumped out and surrounded the agents. "Step back, sir!" one of the medics barked at David, but David was too focused on keeping pressure on his partner's wound. Strong hands pulled him away from Colby's unconscious form, his place quickly filled by two other men.

"Sir, I need to ask you some questions," the EMT who had hauled him away from Colby now stood in front of David.

David found it hard to shift his focus away from Colby and onto the EMT who was demanding his attention. He tried, but his mind felt sluggish all the sudden. Blinking a few times, David tried to concentrate hard enough to give the pertinent info. "Shotgun… left side of abdomen… went down."

The EMT nodded. "When was that?"

David shrugged. "I don't know. Just a minute before I called 911."

The medic nodded again. "What's his name?"

"Colby Granger. Agent."

"Status?"

His brain felt muddy as he tried to answer. "Breathing shallow and fast. He had a pulse, but it was weak. I raised his knees, applied pressure, covered him to keep him warm. He started puking blood, so I turned his head so he wouldn't choke. He… passed out right before you got here."

The EMT nodded and thanked him before turning back to the other medics working on the fallen agent. He relayed all the information David had given him in impersonal, clipped medical jargon.

Meanwhile, David glanced down at his hands. He was covered in blood up to his elbows, his knees also soaked. The paramedic, having delivered the message to his colleagues, returned to where David was standing. David didn't look up from his hands, but before the EMT could ask him how he was doing, David remembered Keith Emmett. "Shooter is handcuffed on the porch," he stated very simply. "Keith Emmett. I had to drop him. Shot his leg." The medic raised his voice and called for two others to take a look at the Emmett before turning his attention back to David.

"Are you hurt?" David had zoned out. "Sir, are you hurt?" the medic repeated, gently touching the agent's shoulder.

David shook his head, still looking at the blood covering his hands. The EMT apparently wasn't convinced. He took out a penlight and forced David to look up. David's pupils constricted when the medic shined the light into them, but the agent was still having trouble focusing on anything but his hands.

"We're going to take Agent Granger in. How about you ride along? I don't think there's anything actually wrong with you, but what just happened is a lot for your mind to process. It might be best if we keep you under observation for a while.

David nodded, but the EMT wasn't sure that the agent had actually been paying attention. As the other paramedics loaded Colby's gurney into one ambulance and Emmett's gurney into the other, David was gently led to ride along in the back with Colby.

As the ambulance pulled out of the neighborhood, David's phone started to ring. He pulled it off his belt and stared at it in his bloody hands for a couple seconds before answering. "Sinclair," he said dully.

"David, it's Don. Where are you guys?"

David paused before responding. "We're in an ambulance," he supplied.

"An ambulance?! What the hell happened?" Don exclaimed.

"Colby got shot." David's voice was deadpan.

"What hospital?"

David relayed the question to one of the EMTs, who gave him the answer.

"Fine, we'll meet you there," Don concluded before hanging up.

David held the phone to his ear for another minute, unaware that the call had ended. Finally, he clipped the phone back to his belt and returned to studying his partner.

One of the paramedics nudged the other. "Is he really alright?" he mumbled, pointing to David. The other shrugged before returning his attention to Colby.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks for all the great reviews! This chapter is a lot more focused on Don, but I promise that next chapter I'll get back to David and Colby.**

**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.**

* * *

"Come in," David called out in response to the light knock on the doorframe. Don walked in to see his agent covered in blood, sitting on the exam table.

"How's Colby?" David asked before Don could even say hi.

"He's in surgery, too early to tell for sure, but they think he's going to pull through," Don replied quietly, eyes studying his agent.

"I should have done more; should've done better. Maybe I could have…" David trailed off. He sounded… desperate.

Don cut in before the younger man could continue. "David, you did great. I talked to the doc. She said that if you hadn't slowed the bleeding or recognized that Colby was in shock and taken appropriate actions, he would've died before the ambulance got there. He's alive because of you. Now, it's up to the doctors here."

David still hadn't made eye contact with the lead agent. "We should've worn our flak jackets," he mumbled.

Don looked at the younger agent sharply. "David, listen. You had no way to know that this wasn't just a routine interview. The guy wasn't even a suspect. You can't blame yourself for what happened."

At long last, David looked up from his still-bloody hands. "He's going to be okay?"

"They think so. And you know Colby, he's going to fight to survive."

David nodded.

"The doc said you might not be up for it just yet, but would you be able to run me through everything that happened?" Don asked hesitantly. He knew that David was trying to mentally cope with everything that he'd been through, but it was imperative for them to get his statement as soon as possible.

Slowly, David nodded again.

"Great!" Don pulled out his notepad and pen. "Let's start with why you were there. If you need to stop, let me know."

David took a few deep breaths before he started his recitation. "We were investigating the homicide of Brian Jackson. We had spoken to his wife, Linda, but we wanted to get more information about the couple. See if there were any enemies that she couldn't remember. As a part of our investigation, we planned to interview Keith Emmett, one of Linda's good friends from work. They'd known each other since college. We arrived at his house around four-thirty in the afternoon. As we were walking up the sidewalk toward his front porch, he came out holding a shotgun. I saw Colby drawing his weapon, so I tried to distract Emmett by trying to talk him down. I announced that we were FBI, and that we just wanted to talk to him. Before I got a chance to say anything else, he fired at us with his shotgun. I heard Colby fire off a couple rounds, maybe three or four, before I had my handgun out. I fired once; clean shot to the leg. Emmett went down immediately, so I proceeded to disarm and handcuff him. That's when I noticed that Colby…"

For the first time in his statement, David faltered. His throat felt like it was closing up on him.

"Take your time, you're doing great," Don encouraged.

David's gaze returned to his hands while he continued. "That's when I noticed that Colby had gone down. I should have suspected something when he fired several times without hitting Emmett. It all happened too fast. I ensured that Emmett wasn't going anywhere, then I went to help Colby. As soon as I realized he'd been shot, I made the nine-eleven call. Dispatch told me that an ambulance was on the way, so I hung up and focused on keeping Colby alive. While trying to stop the bleeding, I noticed that Colby was going into shock, so I did my best to prevent that, too. Eventually the ambulances got there, and the EMTs took over."

Don clapped the younger agent's shoulder. "You did just fine, David. I know that was tough, but it should help us when Megan and I put Emmett in the room later on – as soon as the hospital releases him. David nodded again, but didn't look up.

"The doctor said you're free to go. Take the rest of the day off. I don't expect you to come in tomorrow, either. And you should think about going to see the department shrink," Don instructed. He didn't want to make the psych visit mandatory, but he would wait to see how David was doing in a few days before he made that call. For now, he would let David choose.

David slid off the examining table and numbly walked out of the room. Before he got to the emergency room exit, he realized that his SUV was still at Emmett's. "Don, my car," he started, but Don cut him off.

"Megan's picking it up while she talks to the crime scene guys. I dropped her off on my way here. You want a ride?"

Shaking his head, David replied, "No, I'll just get a cab. Call me as soon as Colby's out of surgery."

Don assured the other agent that he would call as soon as he knew anything. He was actually surprised that David didn't want to stick around until Colby was out, but he knew that the younger man was drained.

* * *

By the time the CSU team finished at Emmett's house, and Megan arrived at the hospital, Don had fallen asleep in one of the waiting room's uncomfortable chairs. Megan debated whether or not to wake the team leader, knowing that the last few weeks had been filled with cases back-to-back, leaving all four of them exhausted. Deciding to give Don a few more minutes to sleep, Megan found the nurse's station to get some questions answered. 

The nurse was very compliant after the profiler flashed her badge, and managed to answer nearly all of Megan's questions after just a couple minutes of checking through records. Megan decided that Don would want to know what she'd learned from the nurse and CSU, so she woke him up. When Megan put her hand on his shoulder, Don jumped.

"What did I miss?" he asked, feeling guilty for having fallen asleep.

"I just got here a few minutes ago," Megan reassured her boss. "CSU found meth on site, and the tox screen that the hospital ran confirmed it. Emmett was tweaking." She let the information sink in for a second before asking her questions of Don. "What have you heard about Granger? The nurse couldn't tell me much."

Don scrubbed a hand through his hair and sighed. "I haven't heard anything new since right after I got here. I guess he's still in surgery, but the doc sounded optimistic. I got David's statement. Emmett came out of the house waving a shotgun. I guess meth could explain that. Before they could talk him down, he shot Colby. David did great keeping Colby alive until the paramedics got there, but he's still pretty shaken up." Megan nodded sympathetically.

Megan took a seat next to Don; the two agents sat in silence for several minutes, only broken when the doctor came out to meet them. "You're here for Agent Granger?" she asked, even though she had briefly spoken to Don earlier. Don nodded once, motioning for the doctor to continue. "I'm Doctor Collins. Agent Granger is a really lucky man. If his partner hadn't been able to control the bleeding as well as he did, your agent would have died before he even got here. As it stands, he's currently receiving transfusions to replace the blood he lost at the scene and in surgery. We removed all the shot that we could find… shotgun blast to the gut from close range leaves a pretty messy wound. A few pellets tore through his spleen, so we performed an emergency splenectomy. Fortunately, we can live without our spleen. Other than that, we don't think the shot didn't hit any organs, so he should make a full recovery. It did tear through a lot of muscle in his abdominal wall, so he's going to be pretty sore for some time while that heals." The two agents exhaled simultaneously at the announcement that Colby should make a full recovery. Apparently, they had both been holding their breaths till that point.

"As long as there are no complications, he should be out of the hospital in less than a week. I don't think he should return to full duty for at least four to six weeks after he is released, though." Megan smirked. Granger was not going to be happy about that. Dr. Collins pressed on, "I would recommend that you encourage Agent Granger to see a counselor about PTSD. It may take him much longer to psychologically recover from this than it takes him to physically heal."

Don nodded in full agreement about the therapist. Sinclair might not need one, but he couldn't be sure at the moment; there was no doubt that Granger would.

"You may see him now if you would like. I'll take you back to his room. He woke up from the anesthesia in the recovery room, but he's asleep now from all the pain meds. He probably won't remember anything from the first couple times he wakes up." The doctor led the still-silent agents through the corridors of the hospital. When they had arrived at Colby's door, she left to return to her job.

Megan stepped into the room first, eyes scanning the unconscious form of Colby Granger. With a hospital gown covering all of the abdominal wounds, it looked like he was simply sleeping. Unless you looked at all of the monitors and IVs hooked up to his body. Don shook his head slowly. He was still dumb-founded that he had almost lost a member of his team today on a routine interview.

Don and Megan stood protectively over Colby, as if their mere presence could make him better and keep him from any more harm. Finally, Don spoke. "I'm going to find out Emmett's status. I want his ass in our interrogation room as soon as they'll release him." His voice was filled with quiet, steely anger. Just like when Megan had been kidnapped.

The behavior analyst regarded her team leader carefully. "Don, I know you want to nail this bastard just as much as I do, but we have to do this by the book. I don't want him getting off any easier due to claims of police brutality or coerced statements." Don's glare sent chills down her spine. "He's going to be detoxing from the meth, and he'll be in pain from getting shot in the leg. He'll be miserable, and it shouldn't be too hard to crack him." Don nodded reluctantly. He turned to leave the room on his quest, but Megan added one more thing. "Merrick's going to try to reassign this case to another team."

Don swung back around to face her. "Like hell he will," he hissed. "My agent, my team, my case. We're getting this son of a bitch, and if Merrick doesn't like it…"

Megan cut him off. "That's exactly why Merrick's going to want to pull us off the case. You've got to stay objective, at least when you're talking to him." Don nodded curtly before walking out.

* * *

Before proceeding to the nurse's station, Don went outside to call David. He gave the younger man an update on Colby's status, reassuring David that Colby was going to be fine, and that he'd done everything exactly right. David's responses were all short and emotionless. As he put his phone away, Don felt a twinge of guilt. Maybe he should let Merrick reassign the case to another team. His own team would be entirely without one agent, and it wouldn't be wise to count on David to contribute much more to the investigation. Don wanted to take care of his team, make sure they would all be okay – mentally, emotionally, and physically – but he also wanted to finish the case that had cost his team so much. 

Steeling his resolve, Don approached the nurse's station and flashed his credentials. "I need to speak to Keith Emmett's doctor," he demanded. The nurse gave him a flustered look, but Don responded with his "don't mess with me, I'm in the FBI" glare. The nurse tapped on the keyboard for a few seconds before finding the information Don needed. She picked up the phone and dialed in the page.

Finally, she looked back up at Don, who was waiting impatiently. "Dr. Neil should be on his way. I just paged him," she declared before returning to her other work.

Dr. Neil arrived three minutes and forty-two seconds after he had been paged. Don had counted the seconds tick away on the clock. The doctor looked at the nurse questioningly, but Don stepped in. "Agent Eppes, FBI," he announced, again flashing his credentials. Dr. Neil glanced at the badge and nodded his head. He put out his hand, about to introduce himself, but Don cut him off before he could open his mouth. The agent completely ignored the outstretched hand. "Dr. Neil, I need to know everything about Keith Emmett's status."

The doc looked slightly rebuffed, but Don didn't care. "Keith Emmett sustained a single gunshot to the thigh," Dr. Neil began. "The bullet passed straight through, only grazing the femur. The surgical team patched him up, and he is currently on a morphine drip for the pain. The damage shouldn't take very long to heal, and he'll be in mild to moderate pain for the next week or two."

Don felt anger surge up inside him. It wasn't right that Emmett's wound was relatively minor compared to Colby's. David was a good shot, Don decided. He was able to disable the guy without critically wounding him. Of course, David hadn't yet realized that Colby had been hit. If he had known, David probably would have aimed elsewhere, somewhere that mattered more.

That wasn't fair, Don realized. He didn't _know_ that David would have done that. That's what Don would have done if he was in David's shoes. Maybe David would have exercised more restraint. Regardless, it was probably better that David had only hit the guy's leg. If he had critically wounded Emmett, he wouldn't have been able to focus all of his attention on keeping Colby alive.

"Is he in restraints?" Don asked, breaking out of his angry thought process.

Dr. Neil shook his head a little. "He's still sedated, and on the morphine, he shouldn't be a threat."

Don allowed himself to fume slightly. "I don't care that he's sedated or on morphine. He _shot_ one of my agents. He's now a suspect for _murder_ of an innocent man. And he's been using meth today; he's unpredictable. He belongs in restraints. Immediately. And he'll stay in restraints until he's released from this hospital, at which time, he will be in FBI custody.

"Look, agent, I think you're overreacting," the doctor tried to soothe him. "Even if he is on meth, he's got enough of our drugs going through his system that he won't be physically capable of doing anything to anyone."

Practically steaming from the ears, Don raised his voice. "What part of 'he shot a federal agent and possibly murdered a civilian' do you not understand? Put him in restraints. _Now!_"

A heated staring contest began, but Don had much more practice in this arena. It was part of his job to look intimidating. The doctor gave in and told one of the nurses to go restrain Keith Emmett.

Now that he'd won his first battle with the doctor, Don proceeded to begin the next. "When will he be released?"

Dr. Neil, still bitter about having to concede the last point, responded curtly, "Forty-eight hours."

"Too long," Don replied matter-of-factly. "If his wounds aren't life-threatening, I want him out of here by tomorrow morning."

The doctor knew that putting Emmett in restraints was more of the agent's area of expertise, but this was his. And he wasn't about to let some _Fed_ walk all over him on his own turf. "Too soon. He needs to stay for at least thirty-six hours for observation and to get the pain under control." Don looked like he was about to protest, but Dr. Neil overrode him. "I know that you don't care about his pain, but it is my job to get him better. Thirty-six hours is non-negotiable. That's the day after tomorrow. I'm sure you can use the time to gather evidence or something."

Silence ensued for nearly a minute. Instead of admitting defeat, Don switched subjects. "How much pain will he be in when we take him off the pain meds when he is released into FBI custody?"

Dr. Neil looked horrified at the thought. "You can't just take him off the drugs! You're trying to torture him until he confesses!"

Don was enraged by the accusation. "I do _not_ torture suspects. We'll put him on ibuprofen or aspirin or something, but any statement that he gives while he's on narcotics is inadmissible in court. You didn't answer my question. How much pain will he be in without the narcs?"

"He'll be in significant pain, but it won't be bad enough to interfere with his mental ability to function. He will also be going through meth withdrawal. That will most likely hinder him more than the pain from his leg. He will be lucid most of the time, but distracted." The doctor's pager went off. He glanced at it, then back at Don. "As much as I enjoyed this little talk, I'm afraid I'll have to cut it short. Emergency page." Dr. Neil hurried off as Don returned to Colby's room.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: As promised, the story is back to David and Colby. Enjoy! The next updates are probably going to take a little longer, but I hope to have a new chapter up at least every other day.  
**

** Disclaimer: See Chapter 1**

* * *

**  
**

David didn't remember much of the cab ride home. The driver had given him an odd look when he got in, covered in dried blood, but David didn't notice, nor would he have cared. The agent handed the driver two twenties when they arrived, then got out of the car and stumbled up to his apartment without waiting for the change from the fare. He didn't care about any of that. He just wanted to get a shower and get rid of this suit. Pretty much everything but his tie was covered in bloodstains, and he doubted that even the drycleaner could work a miracle and get it all out.

Still numb, David turned on the hot water and climbed into the shower. He just stood under the hot spray, watching the water turn from clear to red as it rinsed away the blood. Eventually, he started to scrub, trying to eliminate all traces of what had happened today. Maybe if he could wash off all the blood, he would wake up to find that this was all just some messed up dream. Maybe Colby wouldn't be lying in a hospital bed, fighting for his life.

David had scrubbed his palms till he was almost bleeding himself. He finally gave up and just stared at his hands. He couldn't shake the vivid memory of pressing his hands against Colby's bleeding side. There was just so much blood. He'd seen trauma before, he'd seen lots of blood, but it had never affected him quite like this. Then again, it had never been his partner's life ebbing away under his hands, with nothing else he could do but keep applying pressure.

David's only indication of the passing of time was that the water was starting to get cold. He turned off the water, then leaned up against the shower wall and closed his eyes. He felt exhausted. As he stepped out of the shower and started to towel off, David heard his phone chirping. It took a few seconds to dig through his pile of clothes to find the cell phone, still clipped to his belt. It was Don, calling to let him know that Colby had made it through surgery, and it looked like he would be fine. Don's voice sounded concerned, but David had gone numb again, and his boss's tone didn't register in his brain. It was good to know that Colby would be okay, but David couldn't help but remember the younger man lying there, passed out just before the ambulances arrived. Nothing could shake that image.

David put on some clean underwear and shorts before lying down on his bed. As exhausted as he felt, sleep should have come immediately. Yet, sleep was nowhere to be found. He stared at the ceiling for what seemed like hours, unable to make his mind stop racing.

* * *

Pain. Pain was the first sensation Colby felt. Nausea quickly followed. He groaned softly at first, then a little louder. His eyes were still closed. "Granger?" he heard someone ask, sounding very far away. The woman's voice was familiar, but it sounded like he was in a tunnel, so he couldn't place it. 

His breathing quickened. Why was there so much pain? Where was he? He couldn't remember what had happened. His mind was still sluggish from the anesthesia.

Someone's hand was touching his shoulder, then he heard another voice, this one unfamiliar. "Agent Granger? Can you open your eyes?"

He heard the words the unfamiliar woman was saying, but they didn't actually register in his mind. Too much pain. And the nausea… he felt like he was going to be sick. Eyes still clamped shut, Colby tried to roll onto his left side. If he was going to throw up, he didn't want to do it while lying on his back. Hands were trying to hold him down so he couldn't roll over. Colby groaned again, then started to thrash, trying to free himself from his unknown assailant. He really needed to roll to his side, couldn't they understand that?

Triumphantly, he broke loose of their grip and managed to roll. The pain was incredible and immediate as his left side made contact with the bed. The new waves of pain added to the pre-existing nausea were too much for Colby to handle, and he started to retch uncontrollably. Bile came out at first, but after a couple heaves, there was nothing left in his stomach to expel. Still, the nausea hadn't abated, and his body kept dry-heaving.

Someone rolled him to his right side and put something cool and wet on his forehead and neck. The waves of pain subsided, and he was back to just the initial pain and nausea. He was panting for breath. Still far away, he could hear voices, but he couldn't even distinguish the words anymore.

He felt a hand gently rubbing his back, and eventually his breathing returned to normal. It felt like there was something warm flowing into his body, starting in his hand, and wherever the warmth went, the pain left. The nausea slowly disappeared as well, but he was feeling sleepier by the second. Now that the discomfort was gone, Colby succumbed to the darkness.

* * *

"What was that?" Megan quietly demanded of the nurse. 

The young woman was already tired of these agents, always making demands and expecting answers right then. Didn't they realize that she had work to get done, and she couldn't do it if she had to spend all of her time explaining things to them?!

Huffily, the nurse responded. "He was starting to regain consciousness, but he wasn't completely awake yet. He must have been in pain, and feeling nauseous. That's a pretty normal response to the anesthesia. I gave him some more drugs to keep the discomfort under control, but the pain meds knocked him out again. He'll wake up again in a few hours."

Megan nodded, and the nurse left the room on the pretense of having other work to do.

Don had gotten a call from Merrick just a couple minutes before Colby woke up. Trying to respect hospital rules, especially after being given the evil eye by more than a couple hospital personnel, Don had taken the call outside. As Megan had predicted, Merrick wanted to remove Don's team from the case. Naturally, Don protested. He laid out his arguments very rationally and without emotion. It only made sense for his team to continue pursuing the case, since they were already intimately familiar with the details, and they currently had a prime suspect in custody. All that remained was getting the guy to confess. The Director told Don that he would consider the request, and that he would get back to them later. Merrick also conveyed his condolences on the unfortunate situation, and his well-wishes for both David and Colby.

Having missed all of the excitement of his youngest agent's partial return to consciousness, Don returned to Colby's room and exchanged information with Megan.

* * *

David couldn't sleep. No matter what he did, the memories flashed back every time he closed his eyes. It felt like he was in a nightmare that wouldn't end; it just kept replaying over and over. Although he was tired as hell, he couldn't manage to let sleep overtake him. Instead, he stared at the ceiling above him, feeling guilty for having left Colby at the hospital. 

Although he knew it wasn't rational, David still believed that it was his fault that Colby was lying in a hospital bed. Anytime the two of them were doing something without the rest of their team, David was the senior agent. _He_ should be the one in the hospital, not Colby. Colby had already nearly died once in the service of his country. He shouldn't have to face that again, at least not for a few more years.

David gave up trying to sleep, but couldn't find the energy or motivation to get out of bed. So he lay there, staring at the ceiling, trying not to blink for fear of the haunting images that were burned into his eyelids.

* * *

Colby's next attempt at waking up went a little more smoothly than the last. He could hear quiet voices around him, but couldn't quite focus on what they were saying. Then there was pain. It wasn't overwhelming, more like a dull presence. Then there was some annoying beeping. Every second or so, a high-pitched chirp sounded. Couldn't someone turn that off? It was really hard to sleep with something that obnoxious close by. 

"Megan, his heart rate is increasing. I think he's waking up," Don whispered. Both agents turned their attention to the still form on the bed beside them. As if on cue, Colby groaned and slowly cracked his eyes open. "Hey," Don said simply as he stood up to take his place over Colby.

Colby blinked. When he opened his eyes again, Megan was standing by his other side. "Hey Granger. You gave us a pretty good scare." Colby blinked again. Where the hell was he? And what was Megan talking about? And why couldn't anyone shut up that goddamn beeping?!

Finally, Colby opened his mouth to try to speak, but he found that his throat and mouth were too dry to make any sound other than a pathetic groan. Megan moved out of his field of vision, only to return with a cup and a spoon. "Want some ice chips?" she asked. Colby nodded wearily. He didn't know why he was so tired; he'd just woken up.

The ice was shockingly cold, but it felt surprisingly good on his lips and as it melted into water in his mouth and trickled down his throat. He swallowed a few spoonfuls before trying to speak again. "Where?" he asked, disappointed that his voice still sounded hoarse and scratchy.

"You're in a hospital," Don supplied.

"Hosp…?" Colby was confused. Why would he be in a hospital? "What happ…?" he couldn't get the rest of the words out, but he hoped they would figure it out.

"What's the last thing you can remember?" Megan asked softly.

Colby was frustrated. What weren't they telling him? What was he supposed to remember? He tried really hard to think back to what had happened earlier, but his mind was still on too many drugs to do what he wanted. Instead, he made one observation about the situation. David wasn't here. Maybe that's what they didn't want to tell him. Had something happened to him and David? Something had to have happened to his partner, otherwise David would be here.

The young agent could feel the drugs retaking his mind and body. He tried, but couldn't resist their pull, calling him to sleep once more. He managed to partially voice his last waking thought before drifting back off. "David… dead?"


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Sorry about the longer wait. 14-hour work days just aren't conducive to fanfic-writing. Especially if you've got to do other junk after you get home. Oh well, I like being busy, so I really can't complain too much.**

**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1**

* * *

"David… dead?" the injured agent muttered, eyes already closed as he plunged back into unconsciousness.

Don looked up at Megan in alarm as soon as the mumbled words registered in his brain. Where would Colby have gotten that from? From experience, Don knew about the effects of narcotics, and how it usually made you think some pretty weird things. But this time, the senior agent was seriously concerned.

Megan started to recommend that they call David, but cut herself short when she saw Don's cell phone in his hand, already punching in the speed-dial. "If the hospital staff have a problem with it, they can go to hell," he muttered to Megan, referring to the 'no cell phone' rule.

* * *

Although it was almost three in the morning, David was still wide awake, still staring at his ceiling. He knew he needed to sleep, he was just afraid to do it. His phone, sitting on a table just two feet from his bed, started to ring. Even though he was already awake, the sudden noise startled David. 

Slowly, he twisted his head so he was looking at his phone. He knew it was probably Don calling with an update about Colby, but he couldn't muster the motivation or energy to reach out and pick up the phone. It rang for about twenty seconds before directing the call to voice mail. David returned his gaze to the ceiling.

* * *

"Damn it!" Don cursed loudly. Megan, who had been studying Colby as he slept, sharply looked up at her boss. "Pick up the phone, David," Don instructed as he redialed. 

When David still didn't answer, Don left a voice mail message before hanging up and trying again.

* * *

David ignored the second, third, and fourth calls. Silence ensued for nearly a minute after the fourth call. _Good,_ David thought. As bad as he felt about not being at the hospital with Colby, he felt guiltier that it had been his fault that Colby was there in the first place. As the more senior of the two, David should have been able to protect Colby. He couldn't protect him then, and there was nothing he could do for him now. He had failed. 

Despair had taken hold of the young agent.

His phone started ringing again. David regarded his phone with annoyance. He didn't want sleep, but he at least wanted peace.

On the seventh call, David finally reached over and picked up the phone, answering it just as Don was about to give up. He pressed the button to accept the call and put the phone to his ear, but remained silent.

"David?" he heard his supervisor's concerned voice, but didn't respond immediately.

"David? You there?"

Finally, David spoke with a sigh. "Yeah. I'm here."

Don almost went off on his subordinate for not answering the phone any of the previous times, but stopped himself when he heard the tone in David's voice. He couldn't quite identify it precisely, but he had an idea of how to proceed. Megan had returned her attention to Don when it was apparent that David had actually picked up. Don made a hand gesture to her, and she nodded while he switched over to speakerphone mode.

"Did I wake you up?" he asked cautiously, motioning for Megan to listen but stay silent.

David shook his head slowly, then realized Don couldn't see him. "No."

"Alright. I hate to ask this of you, but I need you to come back to the hospital." Don waited for a response, but when he hadn't gotten one for a couple seconds, he continued his explanation. "Colby's asleep right now, but he really needs to see you when he wakes up again." Still no reaction from David's end. Don pressed on. "We've got your car here, and I know you're in no condition to drive. Megan will swing by and pick you up, okay? She'll be there in about twenty minutes, so get dressed and be ready when she gets there." David still hadn't said a word.

Don pressed a little harder, needing some sort of confirmation that David understood what was happening. "You got that?"

David grunted softly. "Yeah. I got it." Assuming that the conversation was over, David snapped the phone shut.

* * *

Don heard the line go dead before he closed his phone. "It takes twenty minutes to get from here to David's, but I need to hear your opinion before you go. You can blaze the way with lights and sirens if you need to, though traffic shouldn't be too bad at this time of day," Don quickly explained to Megan. She nodded in agreement. 

Megan had been critically listening to the phone conversation, trying to assess the situation. She knew that Don wanted her conclusions, but she hadn't really concluded anything quite yet. Instead, she started thinking aloud, putting it all together. "He said you didn't wake him up. I doubt if he's slept at all since he got home, though maybe not for lack of trying. He sounds like he's going through the same symptoms as PTSD, although it is probably too early for the actual disorder to manifest itself. You said earlier that he sounded numb on the phone, and that he seemed desperate or anxious when you first got here. He was trying to blame himself for what happened. It sounds like he already believes that it is his fault, and being alone for the past several hours with his thoughts has not been good for him. Even if we didn't need him here to prove to Colby that he is alive, it is probably best that we pull him out of his isolation. Be careful about everything you say or do while you're around David. He may misinterpret what you say to think that you are also blaming him, thereby reinforcing his own belief."

While she was giving her brief analysis, Megan had gathered all of her belongings and readied herself to leave the hospital. "I'll be back as soon as I can," she concluded as she headed toward the door. Don nodded, then retook his seat in silent vigil over the youngest member of his team.

* * *

Colby found himself alone in his hospital room. He felt a little light-headed, but other than that, he really couldn't complain. Unsure of what he should be doing, since no-one else was around, Colby passed the time by listening to the steady beeping of the heart monitor. It really was an annoying noise. Someone should make a machine that wasn't quite as obnoxious. He idly wondered what would happen if he ripped off the little pulse-oximeter that was clipped to his left index finger. It would probably stop the beeping, he decided, but maybe the machine wouldn't understand that he had just taken it off, and it would assume he was going into cardiac arrest. That wouldn't be good. The beeping might be replaced with some sort of alarm noise, and nurses would come running. That would almost definitely be more annoying than listening to a digital noise representing his heartbeat. 

Bored again, Colby studied his room. A couple chairs, some medical machinery, some jars of sterile stuff – pretty much a standard hospital room. But there was one thing that was glaringly absent. No television. Where was the television? What kind of a hospital was this – not providing a TV in a patient's room? He would have to speak to someone about that. What did they expect him to do all day when he didn't have visitors?

Just outside his open door, Colby could hear footsteps. _Ah, just in time_, he thought, assuming that the footsteps belonged to someone on the hospital staff. He would have to let them know just what he thought about the TV situation. When the mysterious person finally entered the room to stand at the foot of Colby's bed, he was shocked.

"Dwayne Carter? How did you get here? I thought you'd been put away."

The former agent-turned-traitor just shrugged in response. "I thought you'd be happy to see me, Granger. I hear you got yourself in a tight spot."

Colby just stared at the man who was once like a brother to him. The man who had saved his life. "I just can't… I mean, how… why…" the young agent stumbled over his words, stopping and starting over each time, unsure of what he was trying to say. "What are you doing here?" he finally managed to spit out.

Dwayne smiled at the bed-ridden man. "Well, I heard you were laid-up in here, and I knew that last time you got yourself into any serious trouble, I was there to pull you out. I thought maybe you needed me again."

Colby blinked. What the hell was going on? What the hell had happened? He knew he was in the hospital, but he couldn't remember why. Even Dwayne seemed to know more about what had happened than Colby.

"I hear your boss, Eppes, is pretty mad at you," Dwayne stated. Colby threw him a questioning look. Why would Don be mad? "You cost him a good agent. Let your own partner get killed. I'd probably be mad if I was in his shoes, too."

Reality came crashing over Colby. David was dead? It was his fault? He could remember that Don and Megan hadn't wanted to tell him something, and now he knew why. They had to be upset.

"I heard Eppes say that he wished the two of you would have switched places, and that you would be dead, but your partner would by lying here in this bed, alive. I don't know that I would go that far, but your boss seemed really angry about it."

Colby swallowed. Don wouldn't have said those things. Would he? "I'm sorry," he croaked. "I didn't mean to get him killed. I don't know what happened."

"Sorry doesn't cut it, Granger," Dwayne's voice had gotten harder. "You're the reason he's dead. You ended his life, just like you destroyed mine. I offered to let you come with me; I was willing to let you in on the deal. If you would've just come with me, I would still have a life. And your partner would still be alive. Sorry just doesn't cut it."

Colby had squeezed his eyes shut against the accusations Dwayne was laying on him. He re-opened them to see Dwayne holding a pistol. "Dwayne, don't! Please!" he begged.

"I seem to recall asking you the same thing. And you handed me over to the wolves." A single shot rang out, and Colby screamed in pain as the bullet slammed into his abdomen.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry for leaving you with a cliffhanger. Really. I hate reading cliffies, but I wanted to get _something_ posted tonight. I am about to start the next chapter, so it should be up in the next day or two.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Finally, I finished another chapter! Only 95 days, 16 hours, and 23 minutes until I am finished with my BS degree, and I earn my commission! No more of this stinking homework. Maybe then I'll have time to write more frequently. (Haha, one can always dream, right?)**

**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1**

* * *

When Megan reached David's doorstep, she tried knocking, but he didn't answer. After waiting and knocking for a couple minutes, she tried the doorknob. Surprisingly, it was unlocked. David must really be out of sorts, she decided. He wasn't usually the type to forget something as important as locking your door. 

Stepping inside David's apartment, Megan softly called his name. No answer. She turned on a light and walked through the apartment, trying to find him. When she opened his bedroom door, she saw him sitting on the end of the bed. One shoe was in his hand, the other on his foot. He wasn't wearing socks. Gently, Megan pulled the shoe out of his hand and the other off of his foot. David didn't seem to notice.

"David," she prompted quietly, putting a hand on his shoulder. He turned his head, seeing her for the first time. "Can you finish getting dressed?" she asked him. David just continued to stare absently.

Patiently, Megan pulled open each drawer of David's dresser until she found where he kept his socks. She pulled out a pair and handed them to David, hoping that she wouldn't have to physically dress him. Thankfully, David mechanically put on the socks, then re-donned his shoes.

Megan decided he was worse off than she had anticipated. Gently, she helped him stand, then guided him down to her car and into the passenger seat. He still hadn't said a word since her arrival.

"Colby's going to be alright, David," Megan assured him as she slid into the driver's seat. "He doesn't remember what happened, though, so he doesn't know that you're alright. We want him to see you next time he wakes up."

David shuddered. "I failed him. It should've been me," he whispered as Megan pulled out of the parking lot and started to drive back to the hospital.

"David, there was nothing else you could do. Emmett was taking meth; you had no way of knowing that. You can't blame yourself." Megan tried to keep up the string of encouragement, but she could tell that David wasn't listening.

"It should've been me," David quietly repeated.

* * *

David and Megan entered Colby's room to find Don half-dozing by the bed. "Don!" Megan called out. 

Don jumped. "I'm awake!" he blurted out.

"Go get some coffee," Megan ordered. Don quirked an eyebrow at her giving him orders, but stood up and exited the room anyway. Coffee and a walk would be good for him.

"Sleeping Beauty's been out since you left," Don quipped as he left the room.

David and Megan had just sat down when Colby's sleep turned from peaceful to fitful. He was mumbling, but they couldn't hear make out what he was saying. Sweat had started to bead on his forehead, and his face looked flushed, despite the fact that he was starting to shiver. Concerned, Megan stood up, about to push the button to call the nurse when Colby's eyes snapped open and he screamed, clutching his abdomen.

Megan found the call button, hurriedly mashed it with her thumb, then tried to calm Colby down. She wasn't sure whether he was fully awake, but she kept talking to him anyway.

"Granger? Can you hear me? What's wrong?"

Colby's eyes darted all around the room, but finally locked on Megan's as she stood over him. "Where?" he asked frantically.

Megan, assuming that they were going to have to repeat the conversation from earlier, started to respond with "hospital," but Colby cut her off.

"Dwayne? Gotta catch 'im," Colby insisted.

Megan was confused at first, but realized that it must have been a dream. Wasn't Dwayne Colby's army buddy? The one with the really nice body in the swimming pool?

"Dwayne's not here, Granger. You were just dreaming," Megan tried to assure him, but Colby wasn't listening. David was still sitting in his chair, looking even worse than when Megan had picked him up.

Colby screamed again, wrapping his arms around his abdomen. Megan tried to pry Colby's arms loose, but was unsuccessful. She hit the call button again. Where the hell was the nurse?

A young man dashed into the room, apparently he was the nurse on duty this shift. He injected something into Colby's IV port, then worked on recording Colby's vitals while the drugs started to take effect.

"He's got a fever," the nurse announced. "I'm going to page his doctor."

By the time the doctor arrived, the drugs had started to take effect; Colby was only half-conscious. Dr. Collins took advantage of Colby's relaxed state and started palpating his torso. She frowned slightly, then pressed hard, quickly pulling back. Colby screamed, no longer only half-alert. Megan nearly leapt across the bed to put the doctor in a headlock, but the agent restrained herself when Dr. Collins quickly explained.

"Rebound pain. It will hurt when someone presses, but the pain will be ten times worse when they let go. His torso is rigid – something known as washboard abdomen. To top it off, he's spiking a fever. Classic signs of peritonitis – an infection of the peritoneum. Agent Granger needs another emergency surgery. I'll schedule an OR, and we'll operate as soon as the on-call surgical team arrives."

Dr. Collins left the room as quickly as she had come. Megan stayed beside Colby's bed, pulling up the blanket when he started shivering again.

"Megan," Colby whispered. "Tell Don… I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"Bout David." Colby groaned in pain.

"David's alive, Colby. He's right here," Megan motioned for David to stand up and come close to the bed. It took a few moments, but soon Megan felt the other agent standing beside her. "Colby, look. David's right here." But Colby's eyes were squeezed shut. He moaned again. A tear leaked out of his eye and started rolling down his cheek. His breathing was growing rapid and shallow.

"Colby? Can you hear me?" Megan's voice had risen in volume, trying to get Colby to respond. When the young agent's condition didn't improve, Megan pushed the call button again, then ran out of the room, hoping to locate Dr. Collins.

The doctor was on the phone at the nurse's station when Megan found her. "Dr. Collins, Colby's getting worse. He just started hyperventilating and he's not responsive."

The doctor finished her phone call with some medical jargon, then hung up the phone. She led Megan toward Colby's room, briefing the agent as they quickly walked. "The surgeon is on his way, he'll be here in ten. The anesthetist and OR nurse are coming down from the third floor to get Colby prepped for surgery. The rest of the surgical team is waiting in the OR." They arrived in Colby's room. The doctor continued explaining as she recorded all of his vitals. "The peritonitis is causing sepsis. If we don't get it resolved soon, the sepsis will get worse, and it can eventually lead to multiple organ failure."

The OR nurse and anesthetist came through the door, an orderly following shortly thereafter, pushing a gurney. The anesthetist skimmed Colby's chart, then injected a drug into his IV port. Megan remained standing by the side of Colby's bed. The OR nurse brushed the agent aside so she could do her job. Megan started to ask a question, but was immediately shushed.

The four medical personnel efficiently transferred Colby off of the bed and onto the gurney. Within seconds, David and Megan were the only ones left in the small hospital room.

Don strode back in carrying three cups of coffee. He quickly glanced between the empty bed, Megan and David, and the door. "Was that Colby on the gurney going down the hall?" he asked, obviously stunned at the changes that had taken place while he had been searching for hot coffee.

Megan nodded wearily. "He woke up screaming and delirious. The doctor said he has… some sort of infection, and that he needs to undergo another operation. They just took him away."

Don handed each agent a large styrofoam cup of coffee. Only then did he notice that David was shaking.

"What's wrong, David?" he asked, worried. One of the members of his team was already incapacitated; he didn't want it to be two.

"It's all my fault," David whispered as he slumped back down into his seat.

* * *

David felt like he was trapped inside his own little bubble. It was safe in there; not really peaceful, but safe. Maybe this is what it felt like to be Charlie, he mused. After Don called, he really tried to force his way out of the bubble, but he just couldn't. It took too much effort, and he just couldn't do it. That's how Megan found him – succumbing to the isolation. 

Megan's endless stream of words did very little for David. He knew they were just platitudes. There was no way Colby could be alright. _They_ hadn't seen how much blood the young agent had lost. _They_ hadn't fought to find a pulse. _They_ hadn't watched as their friend, their partner, passed out under their care. _They_ couldn't know that he was going to be alright. He could never be alright again. And it was all David's fault.

When they arrived at the hospital, Colby looked much better than the last time David had seen him, but he still looked pretty rough. David had just started to come out of his bubble, and hope that they were right – that Colby was going to be okay, and that this wasn't his fault – when Colby woke up screaming.

David retreated into his bubble when the doctor announced that Colby was getting sicker. But then his partner had started talking again, and the doc had said that they would operate and make him better. David saw Megan beckoning for him to come closer to the bed so Colby could see him. Cautiously, David stepped back out of his bubble and made his way to the bedrails. He was terrified that Colby's eyes would be accusing when they looked upon him, but he was willing to take that risk. After all, it _was_ his fault. Colby had every reason to accuse him.

But David didn't get to see Colby's eyes. They were tightly shut with liquid seeping out. His partner began to hyperventilate, and David couldn't take it. He stepped back a few feet but didn't sit back down. Then the doctor came in and explained that Colby might die from whatever was making him sick.

It was too much. They took Colby away, and then Don was there, handing him a cup of coffee that he didn't deserve. David, fully absorbed in his bubble again, sank into his chair, unaware of the concern from his colleagues. He wouldn't come back out of his bubble again. Every time he did, things got worse. It was like he had the Midas touch, but everything he looked at suffered. It was all his fault.

* * *

**A/N: Just to make it clear... yes, as many of you correctly ascertained, the last segment of the previous chapter was a dream. Narcs can do that to you - very whacked-out dreams, and you're not quite sure what's real or what's dreaming. That's why you should say no to drugs :)**

**And David is essentially going through something akin to shell-shock. Without the shell, of course. And both Colby and David are going through guilt complexes. But don't worry, all will be returned to normal by the end of the story. I'm not a mean person, really. I promise.  
**


	6. Chapter 6

The coffee didn't last very long. All three agents had inhaled their own large cup in less than three minutes – it must be standard law enforcement protocol. The caffeine provided each with a slight kick for about thirty minutes, but they crashed even harder after the kick wore off. Two hours after Colby had been whisked away to surgery, David was the only one still wide awake. Don and Megan caught themselves nodding off every few minutes, just to stand up, walk around, and return to their seats to start the cycle over again.

Just under three hours after Colby's departure, Dr. Collins stumbled into the room, obviously bone-weary. She looked like she was ready to collapse, so Don stood to steady her if need be. She waved him off, but got straight to her purpose for being there.

"Agent Granger is in the recovery room. It's a good thing we caught the sepsis pretty early. Apparently, we missed part of the damage from the shotgun wound. One of the pieces of shot perforated your friend's small intestine. It wasn't a large hole, but it was slowly leaking waste into his system for about ten hours. He is lucky – if it had been his large intestine, the infection would be much worse. The small intestine is filled with bacteria, but the large contains much more."

Megan just looked stunned. David wasn't visibly paying attention. Don was angry. "Why didn't you catch this when they first operated? Even then, how in hell could it have taken over ten hours for you to notice?!"

Dr. Collins was drained, but she still managed to silence the lead agent with a look. "The surgical team earlier did their best to find all the damage caused by the shot. However, his spleen had been hit and was causing massive internal and external bleeding. They were lucky to have corrected as much damage as they did during the initial surgery. I told you earlier – shotguns make for nasty wounds." She took a breath and closed her eyes, reopening them several seconds later. "As for your second question… Agent Granger has been on strong pain killers ever since he arrived here. All of the early symptoms of peritonitis were also common side effects of the drugs we had given him. Until the fever spiked, there was almost no way to distinguish between the two. As soon as the distinguishing symptom presented, we took him to surgery. It was just unfortunate that it took so long in the progression of the infection for the fever to show up."

Don grumbled something that his colleagues couldn't quite make out. Dr. Collins, on the other hand, knew exactly what he had said. "You would rather have had your agent, your friend, in excruciating pain? I certainly doubt that, Agent Eppes. Anyway, whether he could have _handled_ it or not, from the medical perspective, the longer we can delay the onset of post-surgical pain, the better." Her annoyance at Don seemed to give her a little more energy too keep going. "The different sections of the spinal cord receive stimulation from different regions – or bands – of the body. The abdominal incision we had to make cuts across a couple bands, but the anesthesia provided during the operation prevents the spinal cord from reacting. However, after the anesthesia wears off, the first significant pain that is felt will cause a physiological change in the spinal cord. It's called recruiting, and while that may be a good thing for government agencies, it is _not_ a good thing in medicine. Recruiting causes hypersensitivity, not only in the injured region of the body, but also in all of the surrounding bands. Properly administering pain medications post-op can prevent recruiting from ever happening, which is a good thing. Experiencing pain too soon after the operation can be as physically traumatic as when we actually cut him open."

Don's eyes had glazed over, much as they did when Charlie was wildly explaining one of his mathematical theories. He was even politely nodding, like he frequently did to Charlie. He felt like using one of Colby's lines and asking for the punch line, but decided that he had pissed off this doctor just a little too much for one evening.

Dr. Collins turned her attention to Megan, the only one still actually paying attention. "Bottom line, Agent Granger is in the recovery room, and he'll be moved back here as soon as he wakes up and is stable. I've left instructions to keep him on heavy doses of pain medications and sedatives for at least the next twelve hours. He is also on broad-spectrum antibiotics to combat the rest of the infection. The surgical team repaired the perforation in his small intestine, and cleaned out a lot of the bacteria, but there is still a lot of fighting for his system to do. In order to do that, he needs rest, and lots of it. You can all stay here with him, but don't get in the way of the nurses, and don't try to wake him. He should be able to stay awake in about twenty-four hours. As long as there are no further complications, he should pull through just fine."

Megan nodded at each instruction and the doctor's expression of hope. "Thank you," she said softly to the doctor.

"I'm going home, but I will be back this afternoon. I took a double-shift to cover for someone, and was supposed to get off two hours ago, but I wanted to stick around and make sure that your friend came through surgery well." Megan again nodded her appreciation as the doctor left the room.

* * *

Colby looked very pale when he was wheeled back into the room. Don and Megan glanced over him, just to reassure themselves that he was alive and that he would be alright. David, on the other hand, seemed to shrink in his chair. He was terrified that getting too close to Colby would set off another chain of events. After all, every time he had gotten close, Colby had taken a turn for the worse. 

Content that their team was going to be alright, three of the four agents slept peacefully. The fourth fought to stay awake. Even if he didn't dare approach his partner, he would at least stand guard. Nothing and nobody else would get the chance to hurt Colby.

* * *

Don and Megan woke up feeling only slightly refreshed. As refreshed as you could feel after sleeping for two hours upright in hospital chairs, they supposed. Only then did Megan notice that David still had not slept. She was concerned for her friend. He hadn't slept at all since the shooting, and would crash sooner or later. 

She tried to convince him to go to sleep, but David wouldn't hear of it. In fact, he hadn't spoken a single word to any of them since before Colby had been taken into emergency surgery.

As the day wore on, Don and Megan tried using different tactics to make David get some rest, but nothing worked. He was determined not to fall asleep while Colby was unable to protect himself.

Megan soon realized that David's mental and physical health were directly tied to Colby's. If Colby didn't make it through, for whatever reason, they would lose David as well. Silently, she urged Colby to wake up and get better. She couldn't bear to lose two of her friends. Despite her desperation, the hours crept by with no change in either young man.

* * *

**A/N: I know, it is a bit short, and filled with medical lingo. I just imagined Don reaching the end of his rope, trying to take it out on the doctor, who has also reached the end of her own rope. Thus, the medical rant. I already have the plan for the storyline of the next chapter, it is just a matter of getting the time to write it. That's why I'm posting this short chapter now, so I at least have _something_ for you all in case the next chapter gets held up because of life.**


	7. Chapter 7

It had been thirty-six hours since Colby had been admitted to the hospital. Over the last twenty-four hours, Colby had regained some of his color, but David seemed to fade by the minute. Nurses had stopped by the room every thirty minutes or so to record Colby's vitals in his chart. Some well-wishers had also dropped in, including Charlie, Amita, Alan, even Merrick stopped by for a few minutes. Merrick's visit ended with him pulling Don out of the small room for a chat. 

Don had walked back in, a slightly satisfied expression on his face. Yet, the rest of his body looked tired. In fact, all of the team looked exhausted. David still hadn't slept, but Megan and Don hadn't given up trying. They each took shifts to sleep, pointedly reminding David when it was his turn. It was no use, David had shut them out, his focus solely on his partner.

After hours of almost compulsively checking his watch, Don stood up and made an announcement. "Emmett will be released in one hour. Merrick has given us permission to pursue the case, but only if Emmett pans out as a viable suspect for Brian Jackson's murder. I'm taking him in. Megan, it's up to you whether you stay here or come with me."

The behavior analyst glanced between Don, Colby, and David. It was a tough decision. She wanted to rip Emmett apart almost as much as Don did, but she knew that David really needed support, and Colby would need her when he woke up. She bit her lower lip as she silently debated her options.

"I think I'll stay here in case Colby wakes up," she explained, although the other, unspoken reason was very evident. "Keep me in the loop."

Don nodded. "Will do. Let me know if he wakes up, or if anything changes. I'm going to get ready to take Emmett in."

Megan leaned back in her chair after Don left, settling herself for the continued wait.

* * *

David was only half-listening while Megan and Don were speaking. His gaze was split between Colby's bed and the door. He had stared down every new arrival, tensing up until their intentions were clear or they left the room. He would be damned if he let anything else happen to Colby under his watch.

* * *

Don was quickly able to find Dr. Neil; it just took a few times of flashing his badge. Dr. Neil looked even less happy to see him than their last meeting, but the senior agent didn't care a whit. "Is my suspect ready to be released into my custody?" he said by way of greeting as he came within earshot of the doctor. 

"_My patient_ is nearly ready to be released," Dr. Neil said sharply. It wasn't that their personalities were polar opposites, and thereby irreconcilable. It was more that their personalities were nearly identical, and neither was willing to submit to the other. Dr. Neil finished signing Emmett's chart before looking back at Don.

"I would inform you of all the discharge instructions, but I don't think you would listen, so I'll save my breath," the doctor told the agent.

"Well, that's probably better, because I have my own discharge instructions I need to inform him of; they're called Miranda rights. And I think I've been discharged from gunshot wounds enough times that I know what you would say. Trust me, the suspense isn't going to kill me," Don replied just as sarcastically.

With that, Dr. Neil handed the discharge papers to the nurse, and left. Don stepped into Emmett's room, uncuffed him from the bed, then hauled him up so he could recuff his hands behind his back. "Keith Emmett, you are under arrest for assaulting a federal agent with a deadly weapon, and attempted murder of a federal agent. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed to you. Do you understand the rights that I have just read to you?" The entire monologue was delivered in a quiet, steely voice as Don steered the man out of the hospital.

* * *

Emmett was unable to keep still while sitting alone in the interrogation room. Don and Merrick were speaking quietly in the observation room, all the while keeping a close watch on their suspect. 

"Eppes, you understand that I'm going against my better judgment to allow your team the opportunity to conclude this case," Merrick was saying. Don opened his mouth as if to protest, but Merrick continued. "I will allow it… for now. But I will be supervising your team much more closely on this case than usual."

Don closed his mouth and nodded. He didn't want to say anything to jeopardize his team's role in this case.

"Good luck," Merrick wished him as Don left the observation room to begin the interrogation.

* * *

Don slammed open the interrogation room door, intentionally startling the suspect inside. The addict was still shaking from withdrawal, but nearly fell out of his chair at the sudden noise. Don threw an official file on the table in front of Keith. The man looked at it, but looked back up at the agent in confusion. 

"Wh-what is th-that?" he stuttered.

"You know what that is." Don's voice was like cold steel.

"N-no, I d-don't," he replied. Emmett's gaze flitted all around the room, only resting on Don every few seconds. Finally, he made an attempt to actually focus on the agent. "C-can't y-you g-get me s-something for th-this? J-just a little s-some th-thing to get m-me through?"

Don was disgusted with the pathetic man sitting in front of him. He shook his head in response to Keith's plea.

"C'mon, m-man, you g-gotta help m-me out," Keith's voice revealed his desperation.

"Why the hell should I help you out, _man_? You haven't given me anything," Don spat out.

"Wh-what do you w-want from m-me?" Emmet asked in a convincingly innocent voice. Don might have been fooled, except that this man had confronted two of his agents and shot one of them. Don wasn't going to take any crap from the junkie in front of him.

"What do I _want_ from you? For starters, you can tell me why you shot one of my agents." Don had started slowly circling the room, reminiscent of a vulture.

Keith craned his neck around, trying to follow Don's movements.

"Wh-what are you t-talking about, man?" he whined.

Don slammed his open palm on the table right in front of Emmett. "You know exactly what I'm talking about," Don hissed.

Keith shook his head violently. "N-no, I d-don't. I d-didn't do n-nothing, man!"

"We've got you on assaulting a federal agent with a deadly weapon and attempted murder. Your friend's husband was just murdered, and when two of my agents tried to come ask you some questions, you shot one of them. I'm telling you, Keith, it doesn't look good for you."

"Wh-what the hell a-are you t-talking about? I d-didn't shoot n-nobody!"

"Yes, you did," Don shouted. "Stop lying to me!" Don had one hand on the table, the other on the back of Keith's chair, leaning over the man.

Keith shook his head again. "I d-didn't do it! I sw-swear! I'm n-not l-lying!"

Don hauled Keith out of his chair and slammed him against one of the glass walls of the interrogation room. Emmett was looking frantically around the room, but there was no way out. "Look at me!" Don shouted, just inches from the man's face. Keith's eyes found Don's but quickly darted away again.

The interrogation room door slammed open again. "Eppes, out here, NOW," Merrick's furious voice called out. Don ignored him, continuing to hold Keith against the wall.

"Look at me, you son of a bitch," Don was speaking in a low, ominous tone. "You almost killed my agent. I want to know why, goddammit!"

Merrick strode into the room and bodily ripped Don away from Keith. "You're done," he whispered to the out of control agent. Knowing that it was over, and he couldn't win, Don shook out of his supervisor's hands and preceded him out the door. He wanted to punch something, preferably the tweaker sitting in the interrogation room. But, that was no longer an option.

Unable to wait until they reached Merrick's office, Don turned around to confront his boss in the middle of the bullpen. Merrick didn't even let Don say a word. "You're out of control, Eppes," he kept his voice low, wanting to get his point across without damaging Don's credibility within the office. He had really wanted to wait until they were in a closed room, but Don wasn't going to let him get that far.

"He _shot_ an agent, a member of _my _team! Are you just going to let him get away with lying his ass off?!" Don's voice, on the other hand, was raised much above normal speaking volume. People started to watch what was going on between the team leader and his boss.

"I knew I shouldn't have let your team keep going on this one, Eppes. Trust me, we all want to make Keith Emmett pay for hurting one of our own, but you're too close to this one."

Don opened his mouth, but Merrick continued without letting him interrupt. "Inform the members of your team that you are all on vacation until further notice."

About to blow up, a "What the hell?" was all Don could get out intelligibly.

"You heard me, Eppes. Vacation. You're on leave. Don't make me suspend you."

Don just glared for a full minute, trying to get his temper under control. "How long?" he finally managed to choke out.

"That's up to you. At least a week, maybe two… however long it takes for you to get back in control of yourself. And I would highly recommend that everyone on your team goes to see the department shrink before coming back to work."

This was probably the worst start to a vacation that he'd ever had, Don decided as he wheeled around and stormed out of the office.

* * *

Megan looked up to see Don standing in the doorway, still fuming. "That was fast," she remarked. Don shot her the most evil look he could manage, successfully shutting her up. He began to pace in the cramped room between Colby's bed and the chairs where Megan and David were sitting. 

"What happened?" Megan finally dared to softly ask.

"Merrick pulled us off the case, right after he pulled me off Emmett. The guy is lying through his teeth, claiming that he didn't even shoot Colby." Megan's eyes widened.

"You were assaulting a suspect?" Her tone was of disbelief.

Don shot her another glare. "I just slammed him up against a wall. No harm done. Merrick thinks I was out of control."

Megan kept her agreement with Merrick's conclusion to herself. She remembered people saying how far Don had gone when she had been kidnapped by Crystal Hoyle, but even then, Don wasn't the one that had used physical force during an interrogation.

"We're all on paid leave until Merrick says so. He thinks we all need to see a shrink," Don stated.

This time, Megan couldn't hide her agreement. "I think he's got a point, Don. No matter what, we'll be one team member short for a while. It's probably best that we all take a little personal time to come to grips with what happened. And an appointment with a psychiatrist can't hurt."

Don just gave Megan an exasperated look before collapsing into one of the chairs.

* * *

Colby's senses returned slowly. First was his sense of smell, and along with it, taste. He hated that smell, the one that you only found in hospitals – like to much antiseptic. Then came hearing. That god-awful beeping was back. But other than that, he could recognize voices, even though he couldn't make out the words. One was soft, friendly, almost pleading. The other was angry and ranting. As the minutes passed, he could recognize the words as more than just sounds, and the voices as belonging to familiar faces. Then came sight. He opened his eyes slowly, wondering if this was a dream. He wasn't quite sure what was real or not. Earlier, Dwayne had been in the room, and had shot him. Then Megan was there, and finally David was hovering above him. He thought he must have died, since David was already dead. And then everything had faded away, only now returning. 

Colby watched groggily as Don paced angrily. He could now make out Don's and Megan's words. It sounded like Don's boss wanted them to see the shrink about David's death. One team member short. Colby hated how that sounded. Why couldn't they just say it? That David was gone.

The former soldier groaned weakly, trying to say something to get his team's attention. _God, was that me?_ he wondered. His attempt at speaking was pathetic. He could do better than that! He groaned again, this time a little louder, but still not what he was going for. He then fell silent, suddenly unsure of whether he wanted to draw attention to himself. Dwayne had said that Don was really mad at him, and it looked like Dwayne was right. Even half-conscious, Colby could recognize the stance and the tone of Don's voice that meant he was furious.

All he really wanted to do was apologize to his team leader. Apologize for getting a good agent killed. A good partner. Don was right to be mad.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: I apologize in advance for any typos or other errors. I'm a bit buzzed/drunk (the good kind of buzzed) right now, but I wanted to get something up this weekend. If necessary, I'll fix this after I recover from the hang-over tomorrow.**

* * *

Don and Megan were still arguing when the nurse came in for Colby's hourly status check. The nurse glanced at the two agents, more than a little disturbed. "If you two need to carry on a discussion at this volume, I really must insist that you take it outside. You are disturbing other patients and their visitors," she pled. 

Both Don and Megan glared at the young nurse, but she merely turned to check on Colby. "Oh, good! You're awake," she exclaimed.

The senior agent and profiler looked at Colby in shock. Had they been so wrapped up in their debate that they had missed Colby's return to consciousness? The former soldier groaned, though they didn't know whether it was from the pain or the sudden attention. The nurse pulled Colby's chart and started making notes on his status and vitals. Having finished her task, she abruptly left, but not before telling the agents that she would contact Dr. Collins about Colby waking up.

As soon as the nurse was gone, Don and Megan found their places on either side of Colby's bed. Colby squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to meet their gazes, knowing that they would be accusatory. He groaned quietly, involuntarily.

"Are you in pain, Granger?" Megan asked softly.

Colby shook his head a couple inches. He wasn't really sure if he was in pain, he couldn't really tell at this point. But even if he was, he deserved it. He had gotten David killed. No amount of pain would be enough to punish what he had done.

"Colby, are you with us?" It was Don's voice, filled with concern, yet Colby knew better. Don was mad at him, for good reason. He just wished that Don would stop pretending, stop trying to protect him. He deserved every bit of Don's wrath, and his physical status shouldn't get in the way.

"Colby?" Only then did the young agent remember that Don had asked a question, and he hadn't yet responded.

Slowly, Colby reopened his eyes, ready to face whatever punishment he would get, knowing that he would get less than he truly deserved. He found Don and Megan both hovering over him, the tops of their heads only a few inches apart. Concern and empathy were clearly written across both of their faces.

Then, suddenly, Colby couldn't take their concern any longer. He had gotten an agent, one of their friends and teammates, killed. They shouldn't be concerned about him! They should be pissed off at him, not trying to understand!

Colby's eyes clamped shut again, and he started to mumble. It took a few repetitions before Don and Megan could understand what he was saying. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Don. I'm sorry, Megan. I'm sorry, Don," he kept repeating. A single tear leaked out of his right eye and made a path down his cheek.

* * *

Colby was still repeating his mantra when Dr. Collins arrived. The other two agents had tried to get through to him, but it seemed that his hearing had shut off. The doctor deftly maneuvered Don out of the way so she could get to her patient. 

"Colby? Can you hear me?" Colby didn't respond; he only repeated his mantra another time. The doctor glanced between Don and Megan, trying to figure out which one of them had set this off. Yet, she knew that the narcotics Colby was on could cause him to believe in false realities, and fixate on those despite the reality he was actually presented with.

After examining the patient and injecting a couple syringes of drugs into his IV port, Dr. Collins straightened up and looked between the two conscious agents. Colby quickly fell silent, relaxed, but not quite asleep.

"Can I have a word with you outside, Dr. Collins?" Don asked in his most respectful tone.

* * *

David hadn't moved from his chair. He was aware of Don and Megan arguing, but their words seemed to go in one ear and out the other, without taking hold, no matter how hard he tried to concentrate. 

He was on his fourth cup of coffee for the day, determined to stay awake. In fact, David was the first one to notice that Colby was awake. Yet, he didn't alert Don and Megan, nor did he get up to see his partner. He was sure that if he went over to see the younger man, something horrible would happen, just like last time. Before he could decide whether or not to alert the rest of his team, a nurse came in and took care of the matter.

After the nurse left, Don and Megan were taking care of Colby, so there was no need for David to get out of his seat to help. He would just maintain his vigil over the hospital room. So far, he had mentally catalogued every person coming into the room, mostly hospital personnel. Still, he couldn't let down his guard for even a moment. If someone hostile came into the room, David would be ready.

* * *

Don motioned for the doctor to follow him into the hallway, and she graciously obliged. When they were both outside Colby's door, Dr. Collins motioned for Don to begin. His voice was quiet, for the most part, but occasionally rose above a low conversational level. 

"I want you to take Colby off the narcotics," he started, aware that he was being very blunt.

Dr. Collins just stared at Don for a second, unsure of whether or not he was actually serious. When he didn't continue, she determined that indeed, he was being completely serious. "Agent Eppes, I thought I made myself clear earlier about the physiological effects of post-operative pain."

Don nodded hastily, as if trying to speed up the discussion. "I know what you are trying to say from a medical standpoint, but you need to hear me out. Colby's pretty tough, he can handle some pain. Physical pain, especially. Not what he's going through right now." Dr. Collins looked like she was about to interrupt, but Don pushed forward. "I need him to be lucid and coherent when we talk to him. Just for a little while, just enough that he can understand and then remember later."

The doctor shook her head. "I can't do that. I can't pull him off of pain medications. First off, even if I did have a good reason to pull him off the drugs, it would have to be a slower, gradual weaning off the meds. We can't just yank him off all at once. Not only would he be unable to handle the pain, but he would also be unable to handle the sudden change in narcotics dosages."

The senior agent was still frustrated from his inability to draw out a confession from Keith Emmett, his discussion with his boss, and his argument with Megan. Now, his frustration turned to the doctor. "I'm not asking you to completely pull him off of the pain medication. I know that would be like torturing him. But I need him lucid. Right now, he's convinced that he got his partner killed. Nothing we've said or done has made any difference in his mind. He's decided on his version of the truth, and there's nothing we can do to change that while he's still hopped up on morphine. There's got to be _something_ that you can give him, something that won't interfere with his ability to think like the narcotics are obviously doing."

Dr. Collins was still skeptical of Don's demands.

"Look," Don continued, not wanting to have to resort to begging. "Colby believes he got his partner killed. Even if your wonder-drugs can make him physically better, they can't make him psychologically better until he understands that his partner is alright. Also, David won't survive very long if Colby doesn't recover."

The doctor weighed Don's arguments carefully. "Let me think about it for a while. There is merit to your argument, but I need to weigh the options. My primary objective is to make sure that Agent Granger recovers, but I need to decide exactly what treatment course will be best." She hoped that speaking in Don's language would help assuage the agent.

"We don't have that much time," Don protested. "With every minute that passes that Colby isn't better, David gets worse. He hasn't eaten or slept since the shooting. The only thing we've been able to get him to drink is coffee. He won't survive if Colby doesn't make it." Don had just played his trump card – the one that he'd wanted to hold onto, but this seemed to be the right time to pull it out.

Dr. Collins' eyes widened. She had been very focused on her actual patient, and had spent very little time trying to deal with his friends. David's condition was suddenly of great import. "I didn't realize that Agent Sinclair was doing so poorly. We could admit him – replenish his body through an IV, and then sedate him so he gets rest."

Slowly, Don shook his head. "I want David to be up and around when Colby becomes lucid enough for us to talk to him. Really talk. After we convince Colby that David is alright, maybe admitting him for a few hours wouldn't be a bad idea."

The doctor nodded, understanding what Don was intimating.

"Look, I don't want Colby off the narcs altogether. If there's some combo of narcotics and non-narcotics that you could put him on, that would be great," Don compromised, seeing that Dr. Collins was still hesitant to take Colby off the morphine. "I don't want him in a lot of pain, I just want him to be lucid and able to comprehend what we're telling him. Even just an hour would be great."

Dr. Collins nodded, finally agreeing. "I'll put him on some NSAIDs to help with the pain. It will take a few hours to wean him off the narcotics enough that it will make him lucid. The narcs already in his system will have to process through, but until then, you won't see much difference. As soon as you finish talking with him, call the nurse to put him back on the narcotics. It isn't necessarily the ideal route, but it will have to work."

* * *

Colby felt a new fire spread through his veins after some lady in a white coat checked him over. It felt nice, like liquid warmth, relaxing him everywhere it reached. He could remember that he was upset, but he couldn't quite remember why. He was sleepy, but not overpowered by it. For now, he drifted in and out of consciousness. 

When he was partially awake, he could hear snippets of the conversation between Don and the lady in white. They weren't in sight, but they were still within earshot. Colby couldn't hear everything they said, but he picked up snippets in between the beeping of the heart monitor.

"…torturing him…"

"...partner killed…"

"…nothing we can do…"

"…want him in a lot of pain…"

"…will have to work…"

Those were all the phrases that managed to stick long enough in Colby's brain for him to understand what was happening. Don wanted to take him off the pain medication so he could torture Colby into explaining why David was dead.

By the time Don and Dr. Collins reentered the hospital room, the relaxing drug she had given Colby had lost all effect. Colby was panicking. Half of him wanted to let them pull him off of the pain meds – after all, he deserved it – but the other half knew he couldn't face such pain. Colby tried desperately to keep his eyes open and focused and his mind on one path only.

Colby's survival instinct took over his guilt complex. "Please don't," he whimpered, unlike anything he had ever done or said. "Please don't take away the meds. I don't want the pain. I'm sorry, Don. I'm so sorry. Please don't," he plead.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Yay! Two updates in as many days! I really should be studying, but oh well. No worries. I didn't make any changes to the previous chapter, so you shouldn't need to reread it. Apparently, I still write fairly well while inebriated. Perhaps I should try it more often ;)**

* * *

"Please don't," Colby kept repeating. The naked fear in the young agent's eyes and the pleading in his voice nearly broke Don's resolve. Yet, he knew that it had to be done. They couldn't just let Colby go on thinking David was dead until he had recovered enough to not need the narcotics. 

Dr. Collins looked questioningly at Don. Without Colby's consent, rather, with his blatant refusal, she couldn't take him off the morphine. Don understood the look, and nodded. He took a couple steps so he was directly beside Colby's bed, looking straight down into the terrified man's face.

"Colby, listen to me," Don started in the gentlest voice he could muster. "We aren't trying to hurt you. We just need to talk to you, and we can't do that while you're on all the narcotics. Dr. Collins is going to put you on some other drugs for the pain. It will just be for a little while, but you have to agree to it."

Colby was shaking his head back and forth. "Don't want the pain," he repeated.

"Colby, I know it's going to be tough, but you've got to do this. Do this for me, and Megan, and David."

The mention of David's name stopped Colby's motion and muttering. Pain filled his eyes as he looked into Don's. "For David?" he whispered.

Don nodded. "For David." The lead agent knew it was manipulation, plain and simple, and he hated to do it. But it had to be done.

"Will it hurt bad?" Colby asked pitifully. Don hated to see him drugged up like this. Colby had never shown this much emotion; even when he found out his bullet had ricocheted and killed a man, the former soldier had just shut down. No expression of what he was really feeling. In fact, Don almost didn't know what to do with this emotionally-vulnerable Colby.

Slowly, Don nodded. "They're going to give you some drugs to make it not hurt as much, but without the morphine, you'll be experiencing significant pain." Don's eyes flicked up to verify that statement with Colby's doctor. She nodded once.

Colby closed his eyes. Another tear rolled out. "Please, I don't want to," he whispered, pleading again.

"Colby, I know you can do this for me, man." Don felt like they were going in circles. Which they were.

Agent Granger shook his head again. "Not for you. For David." He reopened his eyes and focused on Don's face. The team leader desperately hoped that what he saw in Colby's eyes was just a product of the morphine. In fact, that was the justification he had to give himself before he could continue.

"So you'll let us do it?" Don asked, knowing that Dr. Collins needed an absolute statement of consent before she would authorize the treatment. Or lack of treatment, as the case may be.

Colby nodded weakly. "Do it."

Don looked back up at Dr. Collins and nodded. She turned to the stack of machines that housed Colby's heart monitor, opened a locked panel, and dialed down the morphine. "That will reduce the amount of morphine in his IV drip to almost negligible levels. I just switched his IV bag, so all we have to do now is wait for the morphine that's already in him to leave his system. This may take several hours, and it is going to get increasingly uncomfortable for him. I already added the NSAID in close to the highest dose I can give him without destroying any of his other organs. Do you want me to give him a sedative for the next couple hours?"

"No," Don whispered. "He needs to be lucid. If his mind is foggy from coming out of sedation, there's no point in reducing the morphine. I know this isn't going to be pleasant for him, but the sooner he can comprehend what's really going on, the sooner we can turn on the morphine again." Dr. Collins frowned, but she nodded and left the room.

* * *

Megan wasn't quite sure what to think about Don's deal with the doctor and his blatant manipulation of their fellow agent. She agreed that they had to find _some_ way to get through to Colby, but this seemed a little cruel. 

Colby was fading in and out of consciousness again, but this time it was just because he was tired, not because of the drugs. One of the times when he was asleep, Megan confronted Don on his decision.

"Don't you think there is some other way? Do we really have to put Colby through this torture?"

Now that he didn't have to appear resolute or strong for Dr. Collins and Colby's benefit, Don looked at Megan with incredible sadness etched across his features. His shoulders were slumped and he let out a sigh. "This was the only thing I could think of. I really don't want him to be in a lot of pain, but you know as well as I that neither Colby nor David can handle this façade much longer. They both need to understand what is real, and this is the only way I can see to do that." Don felt weary – older than he had ever felt before.

Megan nodded sadly. "I guess you're right. It just seems like there has to be something easier."

Don grimaced, but didn't reply.

* * *

Colby didn't feel much pain for the first two hours off of the morphine. His head felt a little clearer, but he still couldn't stay awake for more than a few minutes at a time. A little after the two hour mark, though, Colby's body, mainly his abdomen, started to ache. It wasn't a sharp pain, just a dull presence. Even when he was unconscious, Colby's arms had started to wrap around his belly. 

Another hour passed, and Colby desperately wanted to go back to sleep, but he couldn't stay asleep for more than a few minutes at a time. Just the reverse of his earlier problem. Even when he could get to sleep, a stupid nurse would come and interrupt his nap every few minutes, wanting to check his incision site or conduct other medical tests. While he was awake, he tried to hide the pain, but Don and Megan didn't miss the way his face was scrunched up in pain when he fell asleep. Don couldn't watch for very long without wanting to punch someone or something. If it hadn't been for that junkie, Emmett, none of this would have happened, and they wouldn't have to be putting Colby through this torture. He wished that Merrick hadn't pulled him off Keith so quickly.

* * *

Another hour crept by, and Dr. Collins made more frequent visits. Every time she came to see Colby, she would perform some basic tests to see how coherent he was. It was similar to the tests she would give someone with a concussion to determine their level of delirium. After every visit, she would sadly shake her head in response to Don's silent question. Not yet. 

Don was beginning to rethink his decision. It had been just over four hours now, and Colby still wasn't lucid enough for them to have the discussion. How much longer would it take?!

Colby was awake almost all the time now, and he was no longer able to hide the pain. He would wince if he inhaled to deeply, groan if he tried to shift positions, and let out a stifled whimper when breakthrough pain hit. Don flinched at every new sound his subordinate made, knowing that it was all his fault that the young man was going through this.

Finally, it became too much. Don took hold of one of Colby's hand and squeezed it. "Can you hear me, Colby?" The younger man nodded. Dr. Collins had just walked into the room to perform her next exam of the patient. Don kept hold of the injured agent's hand all the way through the series of questions. He looked up hopefully as the doctor got ready to leave.

She shook her head again. "He's getting there, but it is just taking the drugs a long time to exit his system. I would guess he'll be clear enough in about an hour."

Don squeezed Colby's hand again. He wasn't sure if Colby had heard or understood Dr. Collins' prognosis, but he wasn't sure that Colby could make it through the pain for another hour. As if confirming Don's theory, Colby opened his eyes a crack to plead with the team leader. "Can't do this," he wheezed, grimacing at the pain in his abdomen. "Please." His voice was desperate, but Don couldn't break.

"You're almost there, Colby. Dr. Collins thinks that it will only be one more hour. You can't quit now – you've already gone more than four hours. One more is nothing. You got this," Don leaned in to encourage the young man. Colby's hair and forehead were soaked with sweat.

"Too much," Colby whimpered again. "Hurts."

"I know it hurts, buddy," Don said softly, hoping that Charlie wouldn't mind him using the term of endearment toward their friend.

Colby shook his head. "You… can't… know," he whispered, fighting against the pain.

Don closed his eyes sadly. Colby had called his bluff. Don certainly knew what it felt like to be in intense pain, but he couldn't empathize at this very moment. The biggest discomfort Don could feel was the slight chill of the hospital room and the faint hunger and fatigue gnawing at his body. That was nothing compared to what Colby was facing.

He suddenly had an idea, but it would require letting go of Colby's hand for a few minutes. Don motioned for Megan to take his place while he leaned in and whispered to Colby, "I'll be right back. I'm not leaving, I'll be right back. Megan's going to hold your hand for a little while."

It took several moments for Colby to release his grip on Don's hand, but Megan substituted very well. Don hopped out of his chair and sped down the hallway on a search for Dr. Collins. He found her close to the nurse's station, making notations in a chart.

"Dr. Collins!" he called out. She turned and faced him, her expression confused.

"Has something changed with Colby?" she asked urgently.

Don shook his head. "He's the same as when you just saw him, but he's having a tough time getting through the pain. But I know of a way that I might be able to help him." Don's voice was filled with determination, much like when he was doggedly pursuing a case. Dr. Collins' eyebrows raised in anticipation of Don's revelation. "Is there any kind of really painful injury that would heal in… say… two weeks?" he asked, trying to sound very innocent.

Dr. Collins' eyes narrowed. "What are you planning?" she asked suspiciously.

"Colby needs to know that someone else is going through pain, just like him, and that he can make it through."

The doctor wasn't impressed. "Agent Eppes, I disagreed with your plan to take Agent Granger off the morphine in the first place. I am not going to condone or help you plan to hurt yourself so you can keep this insane plan going."

Don assumed his federal agent posture. "Look, I know you don't agree with the way I'm handling things, but it has got to be done. And you can help me make it less permanent."

Dr. Collins shook her head. "I swore an oath to do no harm, and as much as I would like to break that oath to beat some sense into your head, I'm not going to. Just like I am not going to help you hurt yourself."

"And I took an oath to protect and serve. And right now, I need to protect my team. Without this, I may lose two agents. Surely there has to be a way you can help me. A loophole or something"

She snorted. "I'm taking advantage of the loophole already by taking Colby off the morphine. No loophole is big enough to accommodate what you are currently suggesting. And if you keep carrying on about this, I could have you restrained to prevent you from self-mutilation."

Don glared. He'd like to see her _try _to put _him_ in restraints. No way. Since she was so unwilling to cooperate, Don strode away from the nurse's station, a new plan in mind. He found exactly what he needed just a hundred feet from the hospital entrance.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Hey! Terribly sorry about the really long wait for the new chapter. You can blame it on my senior design project and ROTC. Anyway, here it is. Don may be pretty OOC in this chapter, but here's my justification. Don was coping with the whole situation by doggedly pursuing the case (ie- Keith Emmett). Now that he's off the case, and pissed off at his boss, and seeing/making his friend go through a lot of pain, he's getting more desperate with his attempts at coping.**

**Hope you like it! No guarantees on when I'll be able to get the next chapter up. Working, sleeping, and eating come before writing (in that order). **

* * *

Don smugly returned to Colby's room, satisfied that he'd managed to find everything he needed to execute his plan, even without the help of Dr. Collins. His smirk dropped from his face before he re-entered the room, though, remembering exactly what was waiting there for him. 

Megan glanced up when Don walked in. A new sheen of sweat had covered Colby's forehead since Don had left. The senior agent returned to his post beside Colby's bed, and he sat down, snaking his left hand through the bedrails to grasp his colleague's hand again. Colby groaned at the touch, but he soon had a death-grip on Don's fingers.

"Tell me when the pain gets bad, okay, Buddy?" Don confirmed with Colby. Granger nodded his head once. "Just squeeze my hand to let me know when you don't think you can take anymore."

Colby's breathing was shallow, like every breath he took was causing him pain. But that wasn't the pain Don was waiting for. He knew Colby could push through the baseline pain. It was the breakthrough pain that was causing all the problems. Don only had to wait for about seven minutes before Colby's grip tightened on his hand. Despite being drugged, the veteran had a nearly bone-crushing grip.

As soon as he felt the change in pressure, Don reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette lighter. With his right hand, he flicked the wheel and lever to start the flame. His left hand was still holding onto Colby's, but his left arm was mostly out of the bedrails. Steeling his resolve, Don moved the flame until it was touching the skin of his forearm, about three inches from his elbow. It didn't hurt for the first few seconds, but then it started to burn. He only kept the flame lit for another four seconds after he could start to feel his skin burning. His instinctive response was to grip Colby's hand tighter and exhale sharply against the pain.

"You see, Colby," he whispered through shallow panting breaths, "Whenever you hurt, I'll hurt. We'll get through this together." Colby nodded weakly, his breath also coming out in pants.

When the episode of breakthrough pain was over, Megan nearly exploded on Don. "What the hell do you think you are doing?" she accused loudly.

Don just shrugged and returned his attention to Colby. "I'm helping Colby. If I can make it through the pain, so can he. He's not alone, and now he'll know it."

Megan was still stunned by the utter stupidity of Don's actions. "You are out of your mind, Don!" she exclaimed. Don didn't respond. "I'm calling Dr. Collins."

That got a response. "No!" Don spoke sharply. "Leave her out of this. And that's a direct order."

Megan glared. "You can't make any orders right now. You're on vacation. We all are. I'm calling the doctor." She stood up, but Don put the lighter back in his pocket and grabbed her wrist with his right hand.

"Don't. Colby needs this."

Megan shook off Don's hand and walked out the door. Don shook his head and returned his attention to the incapacitated agent.

* * *

Every painful sound that escaped Colby's lips was like torture to David. He hated Don for convincing the doctor and Colby to stop the morphine. He hated himself for getting Colby into this situation in the first place. Even if he hadn't been able to prevent his partner from getting shot, if David had just stayed at the hospital, Colby never would have thought that he was dead. If Colby didn't think he was dead, all this would be over, and Colby would be resting peacefully under sedation and morphine. 

David just couldn't win. His presence brought complications to Colby's condition, but his absence had started a chain of events that had spiraled to this. And now Don was hurting himself, just to keep Colby company. Didn't he realize David already felt guilty enough for getting his partner into this mess; he didn't need to feel guiltier for forcing his boss to hurt, too! At the same time, David wished he could just jump out of his seat, knock Don away, and take his place. David would gladly hurt himself to make the situation bearable for his young partner. Yet, the roller coaster of caffeine was leaving him thinking pseudo-rationally for the moment, and he knew that since Colby thought he was dead, hurting himself would do no good. It would have to be Don.

David just couldn't do anything right.

* * *

By the time Megan returned with a nurse in tow, Colby had experience two more rounds of breakthrough pain. Consequently, Don was now sporting three angry burns on his lower left arm. With each episode, he was moving a couple inches from the previous weal. 

"Oh my God," the nurse exclaimed when she walked into the room. Colby was gasping through clenched teeth, and Don was trembling from the pain of the lit flame touching his skin. Within seconds, the episode had passed, and Don let the flame die. Still tightly holding Colby's hand, Don glanced at Megan angrily.

"I told you," he hissed, but Megan cut him off.

"I didn't involve Dr. Collins. That's what you ordered me not to do, so I found a nurse instead." Don opened his mouth to retort, but Megan kept going. "I know you want to help Colby get through this, but what you're doing is insane. There has to be another way."

The nurse had regained her senses from the shock of what she had seen. "Sir, give me the lighter," she instructed, using her most authoritative voice. Don merely arched an eyebrow at her. It would take more than a bossy nurse to sway a federal agent. "Sir, I can't let you do that again. You need to get treatment."

Don snorted this time. "I don't really care what you can _let_ me do. I'm going to keep doing this, and there's nothing you can do to stop me. I'll get treatment when Colby can go back on the morphine. But not a moment sooner."

The nurse stepped forward, as if to try to forcibly take the lighter away from the senior agent, but Don's glare held her at bay. Soon enough, the glaring contest was broken by another bone-crushing squeeze on Don's hand. He whipped his head around to return his eyes to Colby, simultaneously reigniting the cigarette lighter. The next burn was almost half-way down his forearm. The closer he got to his wrist, the more it hurt. Which was perfect for Don's purposes.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, the nurse wheeled around on her heel and stormed out of the room. Don broke his eyes away from Colby for only a second so he could look at Megan. It was like he was daring her to try to stop him. Megan closed her eyes and shook her head. Colby was physically incapacitated, David emotionally and mentally, and it seemed that Don was following suit.

* * *

Colby had now made it through thirty minutes of pain with Don's new style of help. When Colby wasn't squeezing Don's hand, Don watched the seconds tick by on the analog clock above the door. Only about thirty more minutes until the doctor had estimated Colby would be coherent enough to understand the news about David. Don willed the clock to move faster, but it mockingly continued at its steady pace. 

The female nurse returned, this time dragging in three other people. Dr. Collins, who looked irate, and two male orderlies filed in. The orderlies each looked like they could have played as professional linebackers. Don met the doctor's gaze, not even bothering to acknowledge the nurse or orderlies.

"Agent Eppes," Dr. Collins' voice was cold. "I knew you were stubborn; I just didn't realize that you were also inordinately stupid." Don simply stared back. "I thought you were crazy when you came to me with your hair-brained idea a few minutes ago, but I understood why you were trying to do it. But for the love of God, did you have to be stupid enough to do it in plain sight of hospital personnel, knowing that you would leave us with no choice but to stop you?" Dr. Collins' voice was no longer cold. It was furious. Yet Don still did nothing but stare back.

Colby let out a quiet groan as he clamped down on Don's hand again. Don tore his eyes away from Dr. Collins and returned them to his agent. Deliberately, he flicked the lighter on and started to burn the fifth mark on his arm.

Dr. Collins stepped forward to snatch the lighter, but Don's reflexes were faster. "Joe, Mike, restrain Mr. Eppes. He is obviously posing a danger to himself and others right now."

As a trained federal agent, Don could have easily defended himself against the two young men who were now approaching him smoothly. However, he was effectively tethered to where he sat by the hand that was snaked through the bed rails. Not only that, but he had no functional use of that hand or arm, since Colby had a vice-like grip on his hand. So, essentially immobilized and down one arm, Don didn't stand a chance against the orderlies. But that wouldn't stop him from trying.

* * *

David had been on constant alert since he had arrived at the hospital this time around. No-one had entered the room without David knowing about it. So when the nurse, doctor, and two huge guys came into the room with obviously hostile intent, David immediately sensed the threat. He decided that he would stay in his role as an observer until he was needed in another capacity. At the moment, it was all just words, something Don could and would take care of very easily. Yet the looming threat remained. 

When Dr. Collins ordered the two men to restrain Don, David immediately leapt to his feet. Having been seated for hours on end with nothing to eat or drink except coffee, David's body wasn't quite prepared for the sudden flurry of activity. As he stood, the blood rushed out of his head, leaving him swaying on his feet for several seconds. Dizzy, the young agent stuck out a hand so he could find something steadier to hang onto. He couldn't play the role of protector if he couldn't stand up on his own.

The blood-rush ended nearly as quickly as it had begun, so David started to make his way across the room toward Colby's bed. There was no way he would let any harm come to Colby. Since Don was acting directly on behalf of Colby, David wasn't going to let any harm come to _him_, either. No-one else in the room noticed the unsteady agent crossing the room.

* * *

Megan watched the scene around her with uncertainty. She felt a certain loyalty to her boss, but at the same time, she agreed with Dr. Collins' conclusions about the situation. Don was more than happy to admit that the chain of events was having a significant impact on Colby and David, but the senior agent was refusing to concede that it was having a very negative impact on himself. Megan knew that this wasn't just a simple situation, and that there were many factors involved, but she wasn't sure what the right course of action would be. It definitely wasn't the way David had handled it, and it wasn't the way Don was handling it, but it also probably wasn't the way the doctor was handling it. There had to be some middle ground, some balanced solution that would help meet all of their needs. 

When Dr. Collins gave the order to restrain Don, Megan partially agreed with her decision. Even if Megan understood that what Dr. Collins was doing might be best, Megan was unwilling to help deactivate her boss. She wasn't going to enable him to continue his self-destruction, but she also wasn't going to enable them to take him down.

So she watched the events unfold, seemingly neutral.

* * *

The first orderly, his name apparently Joe, posted himself behind and to the left of Don. The other orderly, Mike, took his position on the opposite side. Don still had a death grip on the cigarette lighter, understanding what was about to happen, but had let the flame flicker out. Joe reached down to take hold of Don's right arm, but Don quickly moved it. Seeing that Don was not going to cooperate, Mike managed to get Don into a position where he couldn't go any further. Don curled his right arm into his chest, hoping to keep it away from either orderly. Joe leaned in and took a firm hold on Don's right wrist, then slowly pulled it so Don's arm was behind his back. Don fought it the whole way, but with only one free arm, there wasn't much he could do. Joe soon had Don in a standard law enforcement submission hold, with the agent's arm twisted behind his back. The orderly could easily control the agent just by swiftly pulling up on Don's wrist. 

Seeing that Joe was doing well enough on his own, Mike shifted his focus to Don's other arm. He attempted to pull Don's hand out of Colby's, but it wasn't budging. Even if Don had wanted to let go, there was no way they could pry open Colby's grip. It was like Colby was clinging onto life itself, and wasn't about to let go.

The youngest agent gasped again in pain, tightening his grip on Don's hand. Don tried to offer words of comfort, but without an active lighter, his mind raced to find something better to offer. He quickly came up with something and acted on it. Don twisted against the hold Joe had on his arm, initially causing brief pain, and then even more as the orderly applied more resistance. Don found himself gripping Colby's hand even harder. "Still here, Granger," he wheezed. It felt like his shoulder was going to rip out of its socket.

* * *

David was three-fourths of the way from his chair to the foot of Colby's bed. Progress had been slow but steady, enough so that still no-one had noticed his movement. He was on a mission: to help Don. Nothing was going to stop him; nothing could get in his way. He was only two feet from the bed when Colby's eyes cracked open and fell on him. 

"David?" Colby whispered.


End file.
